Frozen Savior
by sailingswan
Summary: Captain Swan AU. Heavily inspired by Disney's Frozen. Emma, raised in the now empty and gated castle, guards a terrible gift: the power to control the winter elements. It's hidden from nearly everyone until her 23rd birthday, when things go awry. It's up to Killian Jones to find Emma and put a stop to the eternal winter, as he is drawn to her for reasons he can no longer remember.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is actually written as a gift, for the Captain Swan Secret Santa on tumblr. Noticed my person liked Frozen as much as I did, and I just thought, "How cool would it be to have a Frozen/CS AU?" So here it is. This is going to be much shorter than _Adrift_ (which don't worry, I know I haven't updated in a while but I have not abandoned it). Don't worry, our beloved pirate appears in Chapter 2. ;)

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters belong to me but are from Once Upon a Time, copyright to ABC and the writers of the show (obviously). Frozen is copyright to Disney.

* * *

"Alright. The gates will be opened soon. Are you ready?" Snow White asked her daughter. She turned to fully face Emma, the skirt of her ball gown rustling. Emma's expression was tight and drawn, her lips pursed and blue eyes steeled with nervous determination. Snow felt a twinge of maternal worry as Emma slowly nodded her head.

Had it been nineteen years already? It didn't seem so long ago that the only threat her daughter needed protecting from was Regina. She could still remember the castle being open, always bustling with activity before Emma's third birthday. The dwarves, Red, even Granny – could it really be nineteen years since the day she had asked them to leave the palace? Snow sighed and straightened Emma's tiara, careful not to disturb the tightly braided bun her hair had been pulled into. The deep red shade of her dress made her blonde tresses appear more golden, bringing color even to her cheeks.

"It's going to be alright, you'll see." Snow said reassuringly.

Emma tugged on the sleeves of her gloves for the hundredth time that day. "Do we have to do this? Why can't we just … celebrate my birthday privately like we do ever year?"

Snow closed her eyes. Red's face swam in her mind, earnest and troubled. It was swiftly followed by Grumpy's, then Charming's.

"_Your people live in fear because __**you **__live in fear."_

"_Enough is enough, Snow. Regina hasn't been heard from in almost twenty years. Isn't it time to stop hiding? Isn't it time to open the castle again?"_

"_Emma will be fine. She'll keep the gloves on, retire from the party early: it'll be okay."_

Shaking her head to will their voices out of her mind, Snow said, "Emma, we talked about this. It's time to open the gates. We can't hide forever, our kingdom needs us."

Emma nodded meekly, lowering her gaze to her shoes. Charming opened the door behind them.

"Snow, the gates are open. The guests are waiting for us in the ballroom, it's time to be announced."

* * *

Emma could feel the chill in her hands even with the gloves on. Despite the long sleeves of her gown and its heavy taffeta fabric, her skin was still coolly supple. It was the one thing her powers gave her that she was thankful for – heat could be so uncomfortable and stifling. She had curtsied when her name was called out after an uproarious fanfare of trumpets, danced with several partners, and was greeted by what felt like almost one hundred people. Everyone wanted an introduction; everyone wanted to meet the princess who had been locked away from the world for so many years. Locked away for her safety, and for theirs as well, though none of them knew it.

Just when it seemed the endless parade of guests had finally ended, a straggler appeared before Emma almost out of nowhere, hooded and cloaked. He looked quite young, with a mess of pleasantly disheveled brown hair and blue eyes. He bowed with a flourish of his hand and Emma curtsied politely in response.

"Ah, so nice to meet you Princess Emma. Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Baelfire."

Emma tugged on her glove. "Pleasure to meet you, Baelfire."

"I've a small birthday present for you, Your Highness." Before Emma could protest with a polite "you shouldn't have," he withdrew a small velvet box from his vest pocket and held it out to Emma, opening it for her. A ring sat pillowed inside the box, a sapphire gem gleaming on a silver band of white-gold.

"Thank you, it's beautiful." Emma reached for the box but Baelfire quickly snatched it away.

"Tsk tsk tsk. You'll have to do me the honor of wearing it, Princess."

Emma's brows wrinkled with apprehension. She took the ring from the box and slipped it over her glove, only to hear Baelfire laugh derisively.

"Over the glove? No no, that won't do. Take off the glove, Princess."

"No." Emma responded firmly, removing the ring and placing it back in the box. "I will not. And I don't take orders from—"

He grinned crookedly at her, an almost manic gleam in his eyes. "Ah yes, about that. Actually, I should probably give you my real name: Rumplestiltskin." His grin widened as Emma felt the fear the memory of his name invoked: the Dark One, the one her parents had told her stories about. His face melted away into a scaled skin and green eyes slit with cat-like pupils. Emma turned to run, her hand brushing against a passing woman's dress as she whipped around. She felt the silk fabric beneath her fingertips and knew something was wrong.

The woman let out a flesh-searing scream as ice began to bloom on her gown, the fabric freezing solid. Abandoning her attempt to run away from the Dark One, Emma looked down at her hands to see she wasn't wearing her gloves anymore.

_No. _

How had this happened? She hadn't taken them off, she would never —

"Sorry, dearie." Rumplestiltskin's voice carried over the woman's. "I couldn't resist."

Frozen with fear, Emma turned slowly to see her gloves held tightly in Rumplestiltskin's fisted hand. With a cock of his head and squeeze of his fist, he set her gloves aflame.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Enter Killian Jones. :) Not much to say about this chapter, just know the third chapter is written and will definitely be released by next week. Sorry about the perspective switch mid-chapter, it just helps me pace it right. Hope you guys like it.

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters belong to me but are from Once Upon a Time, copyright to ABC and the writers of the show (obviously). Frozen and all things Frozen related is copyright to Disney.

* * *

The crowd was thick and pushing at him in all directions, but Killian Jones refused to be rebuffed. With firm steps he cut through the crowd, shoulders braced. He was so close, so tantalizingly close to his goal. The Dark One had revealed himself, and Killian was not going to miss this golden opportunity.

The sea of people parted, and Killian surged forward through the open clearing, Rumplestiltskin's hood visible from across the ballroom –

BAM!

Killian was knocked clear off his feet, hitting the ground hard on his elbow. A dozen curses escaped his lips in a hiss. Wincing in pain as the nerves in his arm wrenched themselves, he glanced upward to see who had dared cross his path. A girl with long blond hair, her back to him as she climbed unsteadily to her feet, had been the culprit. Killian whipped his head around to where the Dark One had been, only to see him vanish before his eyes in a cloud of purple smoke. In a stroke his opportunity had passed. He was gone, and who knew how long it would be before Killian had a good lead on his next location? Who knew if he even had another chance to find him? _He'd been so close._ Rage boiled inside him, the heat of his anger searing his skin. That idiot girl; she'd just ruined the perfect opportunity to complete his revenge.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, lass? Do you realize what you've just done?" Killian's voice was loud and harsh, fueled with fury. The girl finally succeeded in pulling herself back up, and at the sound of his voice she turned about sharply. She had opened her mouth to speak, but the sight of him stole the words from her lips and widened her eyes with alarm. His own anger depleted.

_That face._

Killian watched her back away from him and break into a run, noticing for the first time that the crowd was parting in fear of her. All except a few armored knights, that is. They stomped past where Killian still sat dumbstruck, their chain mail clinking. A half-garbled shout and they unsheathed their swords, advancing on the girl. Her back was to the wall, and this was it, there no way the girl could outrun so many when she was cornered. Killian was on his feet again, eyes set on that face he knew so well. They couldn't kill her; he needed answers, needed to_ know_ her.

"Stay away from me!" The girl screamed, and though he could barely hear it over the din, Killian would have bet every mast on the Jolly Roger that her voice was indeed _that voice_. "Please I can't – "

And then the girl with _that _face and _that_ voice did something even the knights were unprepared for. She held an ungloved hand out pleadingly, and from it icy shards blasted. Large and sharp icicles, as pointed as spears, jut out of the ground and pointing towards her assailants. The floor surrounding her was blue with ice. The knights began to back away slowly, some losing their balance on the ice and toppling over. Killian couldn't move. He stood shocked into stillness as she shattered a window with her icy powers and leapt through it.

* * *

"Emma! _Emma_! Stop, come back!" Snow had broken into a run, Charming beside her. She watched as her daughter froze the glass window she'd been cornered to and then broke through it. The one thing she and Charming had feared so much had happened – the woman Emma touched luckily was completely unharmed, although her skirt was ruined beyond repair, frozen stiff. Yet the damage had been done. Fearful shouts and accusations were flying everywhere. There was no hiding this anymore.

Charming leapt out the window first, toppling over as he hit the ground unevenly. Snow followed, landing a bit more gracefully. She gasped as she felt cold snow seep through her dress shoes and hosiery. Snow in the middle of summer. Emma's powers had been growing ever since she was a child, getting stronger and stronger with every passing year, but this was unheard of. The grounds were already covered in nearly an inch of white powder, and a thick flurry of snow clouded the air. Snow tried her best to ignore the chill that set in her bones and ran forward as best as she could, Charming limping several paces behind her. The clouds blurred the moonlight, but she managed to follow her out to the lake surrounding the palace. She could barely make out the blond of Emma's curls the darkness. Emma stood on the shore, trapped between the water and her parental pursuit.

"Emma, please stop! We can make it better, it's going to be alright!" Snow called out, and though she was still too far to reach her daughter Snow extended her hand out to her. Emma looked back for only a moment before she turned to face the lake again. Snow saw Emma's shoulders rise and fall as she took in a deep breath and exhaled. Emma stepped out onto the lake, the water freezing beneath her feet, and ran. Without hesitation Snow quickened her pace to follow her, but Charming had caught up with her. He pulled Snow back, both arms around her.

"Snow! You could fall right through!"

"I'm not leaving our daughter, Charming – now let go!"

"Snow. . . Snow, _look_. The lake."

Charming had spoken with a shaky hesitation, and when Snow finally stopped struggling against his arms she realized why. Although Emma had disappeared in the trees on the other side of the lake, the snowstorm didn't relent. On the contrary: the temperature plummeted even more. The entire lake had frozen over, and the snow began to accumulate even faster as the flurries began to thicken. Everything, from the ground to the top of the highest trees in the Enchanted Forest, was frozen.

* * *

"Captain, they're going to be poking about the docks. Something about the lake freezing over, completely mad but we ought get out of here before our, ah, 'questionable' cargo is seized." Killian's first mate Smee was already at his side, his words urgent and quick. But Killian was staring out the window the girl had just leapt out of, unmoved by Smee's urgency.

The King and Queen had followed her. They called her 'Emma.' The girl was Princess Emma, the reason this ball was held in the first place. But how could that be?

"Smee. The princess… do you recall her name?"

Smee looked completely frazzled by Killian's indifference to his concerns. "Yes, yes, Princess Emma of the Enchanted Kingdom, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Sir, the cargo—"

"The same princess who had been hidden away from the world, the same princess whose 'great introduction' to the kingdom was today?"

"Yes, Captain, yes. Now Captain, our goods—"

Smee continued prattling on, but his words fell on deaf ears. Killian was submerged in thought.

How could she be the girl? He'd never even seen her before, let alone met her. Perhaps they simply looked alike. No, no… that couldn't be it. She was everything he remembered: just a little on the taller side and slender, with blond curls and a small, rounded chin, her face graced with high cheekbones and lightly arched eyebrows. Her lips were just as shapely, with a pointed Cupid's bow and a naturally pale, pale pink hue. Especially her eyes, bluer than any ocean Killian had ever sailed, more faceted and gleaming than any gem he'd ever stolen: he knew those eyes so well. She was the same girl.

He could still remember. That night, he'd been dreaming of the day Milah had been so ruthlessly murdered. It wasn't more than four years ago. The girl had appeared like a phantom emerging from the mists, her face still shrouded in fog. She was standing behind Rumplestiltskin, her golden curls blowing softly across her veiled face with the breeze. She didn't speak. The girl only watched. Only her eyes, blue and bright, were clear to him, boring into his with sympathy and understanding. There was no pity in them, just a deep compassion that left him aching.

Killian's dreams were usually just his memories replaying in his mind: that was not unusual. But where once he dreamt of Milah's murder nearly every night, just as it had happened in real life, this girl – this _Princess Emma_, apparently – had begun to filter into his nightmares more and more. At first she stood silently as she had the first time, an unmoving fixture that watched his life break apart through the deaths of his brother and then his one love. Then she spoke to him. As Liam lay dead in his arms, her voice touched his ears with comforting words, honeyed and soft. Her words of comfort wrapped around him like a fleece blanket, warming him in a tight embrace, but then she was gone and it was just him and the corpse of his brother again. He had called for her, begging for her to return.

One night later, her hand reached out to hold his. It was the dream when the Dark One had taken his hand. She had taken the hook from him after he'd picked it up, and clasped his hand with both of hers. He finally saw her face, beautiful and glowing with youth. The metal hook clattered to the wooden floor of the ship noisily, and Killian had awakened with quite a start. The aching feeling returned.

The dreams had continued, the girl becoming more and more involved in them until they no longer resembled the memories that had haunted him. He dreamt of running through cobbled street alleys with her, his heart pounding with excitement, the sound of her laugh and feel of her hand in his elating his spirit. He dreamt of a night spent in the vale of the fairies, lying on their backs, his leather coat stretched beneath them, watching the fireflies sparkle above. Each of her smiles made him short of breath. Whether they spent a day out on the Jolly Roger's dinghy picnicking on the sea, or fleeing guards after stealing pastries from an unsuspecting baker, they were together. Killian awoke every morning after the tauntingly blissful dreams with a horrible ache in his chest, a desperate pain different than any other he had ever experienced.

He had seen several gifted Seers. He had even paid a visit to the Evil Queen. None were any help at all. Killian had been searching for answers for so long. True, his attention to the Dark One and thirst for revenge was always greater than his need to understand this dream girl, but she was always a candle burning in the back of his mind. Now that he stood to think about it, the more he consumed himself with revenge (especially lately, as he drew so near to it), the dimmer the candle burned and the less she appeared to him.

How could she be in his dreams, so fully and accurately realized? She was a princess. She was hidden away from the world so thoroughly that even the kingdom's closest allies had never laid eyes on her until tonight. He knew he'd never seen her before outside his dreams, and had written her off as being a figment of his imagination. Yet here she was, flesh and blood. As real as the hook on his left hand, and apparently just as cold and dangerous.

"Captain, please! The royals are gathering up for a meeting, we haven't time to wait around." Smee had resorted to childishly tugging the sleeve of Killian's coat in desperation. Killian turned to his anxious first mate slowly.

"Well then, Mr. Smee," said Killian, slowly and deliberately. "We'd best get a move on."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** let it GOOOO let it gOOOOOO. Yeah it's that part. :)

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters belong to me but are from Once Upon a Time, copyright to ABC and the writers of the show (obviously). Frozen and all things Frozen related is copyright to Disney.

* * *

It all went according to plan, just as it always did. Her parents were busy with their royal duties, and had apologized that she'd be on her own for dinner. Emma arranged for her meal to be brought to her room early, and once she ate she shooed the servants out of her bedroom. After donning brown trousers, a loosely fitting white blouse that belonged to her father, and a large leather satchel, she ducked out into the corridor, locking her bedroom door behind her. A quick traipse down to the kitchens and she was out through the servants' entrance, her mother's lady-in-waiting Johanna assisting her along the way.

"Be careful now, your highness. Your mum would have me thrown off the highest turret if she knew I'd been helping you go out to town." Johanna muttered nervously under her breath after she and Emma had passed the guards without trouble.

Emma smiled. "I will. And don't worry, she wouldn't!" She added with a wink. With a satisfied grin, she tucked her shirt into her pants as best as she could and made her way towards the village.

Emma immersed herself in the smells, the sights, and the sounds of the town. Music was playing from the center of the square, joyous and full. Wandering through the market from stall to stall, her coin purse emptied in exchange for beautiful beads, lush and floral leaves of tea, strange smelling candles, and one leather belt (her trousers seemed to be even more loose fitting than usual). Her satchel hung heavily across her hip, the strap crossed over her torso to her left shoulder.

After a short stop at the baker shop, Emma wandered over towards the docks. The market hadn't been half as busy as the docks were. There were people everywhere, from guardsmen to sailors to fish merchants. The salty ocean breeze mingled with fresh cotton as she passed a ship emptying its cargo of it. All the ships in port were the same ones Emma saw every time she managed to sneak onto the docks, all of them small to medium sized, ranging from fishing to cargo boats. Nothing exceptional.

It was not the smell of the ocean or hustle and bustle of tradable goods that brought Emma to the docks so often. Each visit was a scouting trip, and this one no different. She'd gotten the idea only two months ago, as she wandered her father's library aimlessly. An old book, bound in red leather, sat staunchly out of place on a bookshelf full of pristine volumes. Its title had long worn off the cover, only readable on the title page inside the book: _Buried Treasure, Tales of Sea Adventures. _She'd devoured every story inside, reread it so much she could recite quotes from it verbatim. It gave her life.

Emma loved her parents. She knew they were only trying to protect her. But Emma didn't want protection, and she didn't need it either – what she needed more than anything was a real life. She was sick of hiding, but terrified of what her powers would mean out in the open. She'd be an outcast. She'd be feared and hated like the Evil Queen, maybe even just as exiled. She couldn't be a princess. But that fear… a pirate needed to be feared. They needed strength and courage and thirst for adventure. All that Emma had in abundance. She just needed a ship and its captain to take her in.

Except today, things were different. At the end of the furthest dock a ship was anchored that answered her curiosity. Enormous, wood gleaming in the sun reflecting off the ocean, with three huge masts reaching for the clouds and a deck shining and clean, it stood proudly among the fishermen boats and cargo dinghies. Emma couldn't resist – her feet were already tapping against the ramp that led to the ship. The name, written in an antiqued and spotted paint, jutted out against the red trim: The Jolly Roger.

Emma stepped onto the deck excitedly, her head swiveling in every direction to take in her surroundings. The Jolly Roger was a _pirate_ ship. She'd finally found one. Now all she had to do was speak to the captain and –

"You there – lass!" Emma spun on her heels to face the man speaking to her, nearly startled out of her skin. A metal hook peeking out from beneath a long black leather coat meant only one thing: Captain Hook. One of the pirate captains she'd heard about in the village. He was standing across from her, leaning against the center mast of his ship nonchalantly.

Of course the stories the villagers had been murmuring to each other in the pubs and eateries Emma frequented did not mention his appearance beyond his mental appendage, though it would not have hurt the stories one bit. He was tall and leanly built, with a dark ruff of hair that was dashingly mussed by the sea breeze. He grinned at her, a devastatingly attractive and sly smile that struck Emma dumb for a moment.

"Any particular reason you're on board my ship?" He was still smirking at her, but his smile grew even broader as Emma stood silent, completely at a loss for words.

"I—I was just – "

"You've got a name, lass?"

"Of course I do. It's … um…" Emma's eyes searched her surroundings wildly. She couldn't very well give out her true identity, after all, but there was nothing to help jolt her mind. Hook was approaching her. Every step he took forward was a step Emma took back, until she bumped into the railing of the ship. She looked down at the sea frothing below her, and saw two swans swimming about in the Jolly Roger's wake.

"Well?" Hook was now hardly a few inches away from her; he was clearly enjoying her confused and distressed state.

"Swan." Emma replied as surely as her voice would allow. "My name is Swan."

_He'd laughed._

The snow beneath Emma's feet was comfortingly cold as she ran, her breath turning to vapor in the freezing air. Killian had laughed at her chosen name, his smile crinkling his eyes. She remembered the nervousness she felt melt away. He had applauded her shameless gall, the same gumption that fueled her now.

Emma was coming closer to the top of the north mountain, and as she climbed she hugged her arms to her chest tightly. They all knew now. They had screamed and ran away from her in absolute fear. It was just like before: Emma was a danger to them all, and she could no longer be contained. She was alone.

Every step she took was firmer than the last. He had been ripped from her so resolutely, with such a finality she wanted to scream in frustration. His face showed no recognition of her, just surprise and confusion. Tears began to blur her vision, and she could hear his voice in her mind, feel his warm arms around her waist as though it was he had let go only moments ago.

"_There now, it's alright. There's nothing to cry over, love." _

She was meant to live out her life in solitude and in constraints, behind the padlock of the castle door. She had accepted that pitiful existence thinking it was best. Everyone – her parents, the Blue Fairy – made her believe she would be better off in that damned castle. They were wrong. Emma brushed the tears from her eyes with the back of her wrist, banishing them before they could fall. Then she looked down at her hands. One of them was still gloved.

Every thump of her heart was in rebellion, urging her forward. What the hell did they know about her powers? She didn't need anyone. People got in the way. Keeping them safe and comfortable kept her miserable and confined. But it didn't have to be that way anymore. With firm and steady hand, Emma ripped off the silk glove, tossing it above her. The wind carried it away, and with it her fear.

There was no one here to hide from. No one to keep sheltered from her power. She'd made it to the top of the mountain. The air here was thinner, colder, but it didn't bother her.

One firm stomp on the ground and she was ablaze with energy. Ice, thick and layered, jutted out beneath her. Emma lifted her arms to pull the ice upward, twisting and writhing the elements under her control with such sudden ease. Enormous, beautiful, cold and strong, Emma's palace formed around her perfectly, her soul soaring with every motion. And when her new home was done, she drew ice over herself to form her own clothes, the chill pleasant against her skin. The ice ran over her arms like sparkling, sheer chiffon, and she conjured an icy cloak to trail her. With complete abandon Emma ripped the tiara off her head and tossed it aside, tearing her hair free from the bun her mother had pulled it in. Her curls cascaded down her back like spun gold, and her tiara slammed against the ice wall and broke into pieces.

She was never going back. She didn't need anyone. Emma stood on the balcony she had just created, breathing more freely than she could ever remember doing.

A memory of Killian's face, smiling gently and shrouded in moonlight, rekindled in her mind. Emma shut her eyes to it, and turned sharply on her heels. The icy doors slammed shut.


End file.
